


Mother's Love

by Mrs_Don_Draper (orphan_account)



Series: Father, Son, and Mother [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Love, Mother-Son Relationship, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Mrs_Don_Draper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though Tony had received several lavish and pricey birthday gifts, he was allowed to choose only one to keep. Tony was slowly learning that even though his father was wealthy and could afford to keep Tony and his mother in lovely homes and provide them with everything they needed to the point of excess, he would not personally enjoy such luxuries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother's Love

The memories of birthdays Tony had as a child are not ones he would consider to be good ones. At best, they were tolerable. At worst, they were down right depressing. On the outside, it appeared as if every boy's dream party was being thrown for him: celebrity appearances, tables piled high with toys, enough cake and ice cream to satisfy an army. If one looked only at the wrapping paper, one would be jealous, admonishing the parents for spoiling their child on treats most children would never have the chance to enjoy. But if one were to take a closer look, took the time to see, really see, the child and the life he led once the guests left and the doors closed, one would see a very different story.

After the last guest had hopped into their expensive car or limousine and the headlights faded from view, the wrapping paper came off as quickly as Tony had unwrapped his presents mere hours ago.

“Time to choose your present, Tony,” his father said, as he always did after the guests—witnesses, more like—left. “One present.”

As was usual at this point—his ninth party and the fifth one he could actually remember—he was unsurprised by his father's order. Though he received several lavish and pricey gifts, he was allowed to choose only one to keep. Tony was slowly learning that even though his father was wealthy and could afford to keep Tony and his mother in lovely homes and provide them with everything they needed to the point of excess, he would not personally enjoy such luxuries.

“Oh, Howard, really. He's just a boy,” his mother always stepped in with.

Howard turned his cold glare at her. “He's a boy who will learn that he needs to earn his keep. He's lucky to be getting anything. Do you think I was handed everything I wanted at the age of nine? Do you think my parents allowed me to be so selfish? Or have I put in my own work and time and effort to earn my money and everything that comes with it? Answer me that, Maria.”

Maria returned her husband's icy stare.

“And he will earn his keep. When he is old enough and mature enough to handle such responsibility. He's an incredibly bright child, and I will not have you snuffing out his childhood just because that's what happened to you.”

“Who do you think you're talking to?” Howard asked, raising his voice now.

“I'm talking to a man who thinks very little of his wonderfully sweet, intelligent son. I'm talking to a man wants to break his son's spirit. I'm talking to a man who refuses to listen to reason.”

Howard sprang out of his chair at that, and Tony took that as his cue to leave while he still could. Before he would begin to be screamed at or spanked or both. Punished for reasons even he was unsure of but yet assumed he deserved because only naughty boys were punished like that. Tony got punished a lot, so he assumed he was a naughty boy. What other reason could there be? He quietly climbed the stairs up to his room but began sprinting when he heard something hit a wall and shatter. Tony ran into his room and went to sit in his closet where he wouldn't hear the awful noises as much. The shouting was muffled by the door but was just as unsettling as if he were still in the parlor. 

Tony grabbed a spare blanket from one of the shelves above him and wrapped it around him like a cocoon. Inside, he could hear nothing but the sound of his own pulse in his ears. It felt as if he were all alone in the world with all of the noises gone like this. It managed to feel both comforting and terrifying at the same time, which made him feel so confused and conflicted that he got a stomach ache. Or maybe it was from the ice cream. He started crying. He cried because his tummy hurt and mommy and daddy were fighting again and it was probably all his fault again and mommy would cry again and Tony hoped he wouldn't throw up on the floor again because he got a pretty bad spanking when the rug in the parlor had to be replaced. He cried until he began coughing and choking, the blanket smothering him but providing him with safety and warmth even if it did nothing to soothe the pain that permeated his tummy and chest. 

Tony was only managing dry sobs when he heard his bedroom door open. He let out a terrified gasp as he tried to squeeze himself up small enough so that no one would find him. Maybe if he stayed hidden in here long enough, he would die.

“Tony? Tony, are you in here?” his mother asked.

“Mommy?” Tony croaked.

Fresh tears welled up when he realized she probably couldn't hear him.

“Mommy?” he rasped just as quietly.

“Tony, it's Mommy. If you're in here, will you come out?”

“Mommy!”

Tony heard his mother's feet pad across the floor to his closet. Tony let his head peak out from the blanket so that she could see him. 

Maria opened the door to the darkness of the closet and reached up a hand to pull the chain that turned on the light. When it clicked on, she looked down and found her son's tearful face looking up at her from the floor, wrapped up in a blanket and curled in on himself. It was a heart-wrenching scene to take in. She crouched down to speak to her baby.

“Tony, I am very sorry. I am very, very sorry.”

Tony opened his arms to be hugged and held. Maria leaned down to pick him up and set him in her lap, holding him close to her and rocking back and forth gently.

“I love you, Tony. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks as he listened to his mother's heart beat and her soft words. He let out shaky breaths as she stroked his hair and rubbed his back. Maria picked him up and carried him to his bed where she sat him down and went to his drawers to pull out his favorite pajamas. She planted kisses on his cheeks as she helped him into his nightclothes and pulled the blankets up to his shoulders.

“I have something for you, baby.”

Tony looked at her in wonder. She reached into her dress pocket and pulled out a silver shaped heart that was the size of his fist. The metal was cool in his hand and reflected the light from the closet on its smooth surface.

“Shake it,” she prompted.

As he did so, a warm jingle emitted from the heart. He shook it again, and the sound of tiny bells filled the room. It was a nice noise, soft and pretty. It's silver casing beautiful and tough.

“You never have to be sad or scared, Tony. You hold this and listen to its music and think of me. When you have this by you, remember how much I love you, my brave, sweet boy.”

Tony nodded at his mother's words. This bell was all he would ever need when he needed to be brave. His mother believed in him, and he would not let her down. He need not fear when he would always have a piece of his mother near.  
And so that day, it was not a gadget or toy or machine or designer product that represented his ninth birthday, but the love of his mother. 

And ten years later, as he stood by her casket a few days after his parents' fatal car accident, he reached into his pocket to grip that cool silver. That heart-shaped bell she had given him when he felt the darkness closing in on him. And he remembered her words. He repeated them to himself as he swallowed through a lump in his throat. 

A piece of his mother.

A reminder that she was always near.

A reminder that she believed in him.

A reminder that she loved him.

When they began to lower her into the plot, Tony turned away, unable to watch any longer. He jogged to an empty part of the cemetery and found a bench to sit on. He pulled the bell out of his pocket and saw the grey clouds above him reflected back at him. 

He closed his eyes and shook the heart next to his ear, listened to the muted bells inside jingle against each other, let the sound echo across the silent burial ground until the last tones faded away. Solemnly, he opened his eyes, stood up, and pocketed the heart.

“Good-bye, Mommy.”


End file.
